Throughout his life, painter Ernest Lawson lived in many places. Born in Halifax in 1873, Lawson moved to New York at 18 to take classes at the Art Students League.
“High Bridge at Night, New York City” Over the years he studied and worked in Connecticut, Paris, Colorado, Spain, New Mexico, and finally Florida, where his body was found on Miami Beach in 1939—possibly a homicide or suicide.
Shadows, Spuyten Duyvil Hill”
But if there was one location that seemed to intrigue him, it was Upper Manhattan—the bridges and houses, the woods, rugged terrain, and of course, the rivers.
“Ice in the RIver”
From 1898 to about 1908, while fellow Ashcan School artists focused their attention on crowded sidewalks and gritty tenements, Lawson lived in sparsely populated Washington Heights, drawing out the rural beauty and charm of the last part of Manhattan to be subsumed into the cityscape.
“Boathouse, Winter, Harlem River” “Less committed to social realism than his peers, his works are more remarkable for their treatment of color and light than their social relevance,” states the National Gallery of Canada.
“A House in the Snow, the Dyckman House”
Lawson’s Upper Manhattan is an enchanting, often romantic place, which he rendered in “thick impasto, strong outlines, and bold colors,” according to Artsy.com. His nocturnes reflect the seasonal beauty of still-extant spots like the High Bridge, Harlem River, Spuyten Duyvil, and the Dyckman Farmhouse (the last Dutch colonial-style farmhouse in Manhattan).
Rivershacks)”
Though one critic described him as “a painter of crushed jewels,” according to the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts (PAFA), and another noted his “peculiar power of finding sensuous beauty in dreary places,” Lawson never found fame like Ashcan painters George Luks and John Sloan.
Portrait of Ernest Lawson by fellow Ashcan artist William Glackens
“Despite great acclaim from certain critics, Lawson remained under-appreciated in his lifetime, and was often depressed and struggling financially,” per PAFA. His name may not be well-known, but Lawson captured the mood and feel of Upper Manhattan’s landmarks and landscape just before urbanization arrived.
SACRED HEART CHAPEL, WELFARE ISLAND Located across front the Octagon and was demolished to make room for tennis courts in the early 1980’s
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated:
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photo by Brian Clark (“sooner”) via Centralpark.com
In 1853, the same year that the New York State Legislature set aside more than 750 acres to create The Central Park, authorities noticed a suspicious rise in the amount of cow’s milk being brought from outlying farms into Manhattan. Previously about 90,000 quarts arrived in the city each day; now the number rose inexplicably to 120,000. An investigation was launched.
The findings were chilling. Investigators found that some dairymen were diluting the milk with water, then adding flour to restore its consistency. But worse, unscrupulous dairy farmers, many in Brooklyn, were feeding their cows the alcoholic mash left over from the whiskey distillery process.
These cows were stricken with disease and deformities – losing their tails and hooves and developing open sores. The resulting milk, called “swill milk” by the press, was a thin, bluish liquid. To disguise it, the dairymen added plaster of paris, starch and eggs. Molasses gave it the proper coloring of wholesome milk. Harper’s Weekly, the newspaper that lead the charge against swill milk, reported that up to 8,000 children in New York died every year.
In the meantime, Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux won the 1858 design competition for Central Park. Their vision would create open space for all New Yorkers, including the poor and underprivileged. The green spaces, terraces, ponds and roadways were designed not only for their beauty, but to contribute to public health. As the Park developed, it would play a substantial role in the milk crisis.
But for now the unspeakable corruption and tragedy continued. When, in 1862, a Brooklyn “distillery dairy” caught fire, The New York Times described the deplorable condition of the milk cows that were released into the streets:
Many of the cows were in such a weak condition that they were thrown down and trampled upon by the more recent additions to the stock, and several will have to be braced up before they can undergo the process of milking again…One cow in particular, owing to her deformed feet, being unable to stand, attracted considerable attention, and yet the lookers-on were assured that she gave the best milk of any animal in the whole country. [The cows had] long tails, short tails, stub tails, and some with no tails at all. Their appendages were in every conceivable condition, from a sound stump down to stumps in every degree of decomposition… It was a most pitiable and disgusting spectacle.
At the southern point of Central Park–the spot where families would first enter–was to be a Children’s Area. Although not originally part of Olmstead and Vaux’s design, plans were laid for a dairy here in 1869. Its purpose would be to provide children with wholesome milk and pastries with no fear of contamination.
On February 18, 1870 The New York Times happily anticipated the new project. “The Commissioners of the Central Park have determined to erect and open next Spring a dairy for the supply of pure, wholesome, and unadulterated milk for the special use of invalid and delicate ladies and their infant children visiting the Park…There is a cottage being erected, with a handsome steeple and ornamental turrets, for the accommodation of ladies and infants. There will be female attendants there, and all the regular conveniences. In the basement cows will be kept in readiness to supply the demand made of them. Around this cottage a fine area of land is set apart for a playground, exclusively for the very young children, being distinct and separate from the present boys’ and girls’ playground…The milk will be supplied at cost price.”
Calvert Vaux designed the dairy, a whimsical fantasy of Victorian Gothic, multi-colored gingerbread right off the pages of Hansel and Gretel. The polychrome wooden loggia was intended to shelter the children from the elements and catch cool breezes in the summer. The stone block dairy, a combination of Manhattan schist and sandstone, took its inspiration from picturesque country German church architecture.
Victorian children gather on the grass outside the Dairy not long after its completion. from the collection of the New York Public Library
Despite the promise that the milk would be supplied “at cost” and the refreshments would be affordable, one Southern family visiting the park in 1874 was thunderstruck at their bill. After visiting the menagerie on October and seeing among the exhibits the laughing jack-ass, they “discovered they were hungry.”
According to the letter to the editor of The New York Herald written by a New York friend, they entered the Dairy and ordered two cups of coffee, one glass of milk and three sandwiches. When they were finished, the father asked how much he owed. When the waiter told him $2.50, he hesitated. John Bangles, who write the letter, said “Our friend does not roll in wealth…he demurred and the waiter, with a glance of pity and a smile, said, ‘Well, $2.25.'” The reduced bill would be equal to about $50 today.
“My friends then departed, the little boy asked what was the mater, the father muttered something about seeing another laughing jackass.”
One can almost hear the cacophony within the Dairy in this etching by J. N. Hyde that appeared in Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper in 1872 (copyright expired)
It seems that the Southern family were victims of an unscrupulous waiter. In his 1882 New York by Gaslight, James D. McCabe, Jr. described the Dairy as “a tasteful gothic structure of brick and stone. Here pure milk and refreshments may be had at moderate prices. Residents of the city can always purchase fresh milk or cream here, for sick children, and a great quantity is sold daily for this purpose.”
An unusual view reveals the surprising scale of the building, including the cow barn section. photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York
The dairy not only provided children wholesome refreshments in 1899, it was a source of amusement in the form of one draft horse. On January 18 the Pennsylvania newspaper Republican, wrote about “‘Dan Sorrel,’ who draws the milk wagon that takes the milk to Central Park Dairy every morning. His driver often amuses the children that gather about his pet by saying:
‘Now, Dan, I believe you are a Democrat.’
‘No,’ shakes the head.
‘What! a Republican?’
‘Yes, yes, yes,!’ and a stamping of both front feet, while the tail is slashed about like a banner to emphasize his sentiments.”
In November 1911 New Yorkers may have been surprised and disappointed when they read that Park Commissioner Charles B. Stover planned to do away with the Dairy as a concession. The New-York Tribune reported that Stover had announced “in the near future he would convert the Dairy, one of the oldest refreshment stands in the park, into playrooms, doing away with the privilege, which dates back to the early days of the park.”
The playroom idea did not work out. By the 1950s the building was essentially abandoned and dilapidated. Vaux’s once-colorful loggia, now rotted and sagging, was ripped down by the Parks Department and the Dairy suffered the humiliation of becoming a maintenance shed.
After being left forgotten for two decades, the Central Park Administration hired designer James Lamantia and Weisberg Castro Associates to restore the interior of the Dairy. In 1979 it was opened as the Park’s first visitor center.
Two years later the new Central Park Conservancy took over the Dairy and restored its wonderful wooden loggia. Today a permanent exhibit of the history and design of Central Park is housed here.
ENJOY THE VIEW OF SKATERS PROS AND AMATEURS ON THE ROCKEFELLER RINK
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
I am distressed to hear that neighbors have not received results from PCR tests taken at the mobile unit 5 days ago. My test at Bellevue e-mailed me results in 24 hours. Please use our municipal system that is here to serve every person, no questions asked.
TWO RELIABLE, FREE AND PERMANENT TESTING SITES ARE OUR MUNICPAL HOSPITALS. BELLEVUE HAS LARGE AND WELL ORGANIZED INDOOR WAITING AREAS FOR VACCINATONS, BOOSTERS AND TESTING.
THIS IS A MUCH BETTER IDEA THAT FREEZING ON A LONG LINE FOR POP-UP TESTING.
TAKE THE NYC FERRY AND BELLEVUE IS A QUICK WALK ON FIRST AVENUE OR METROPOLITAN IS ACROSS THE STREET FROM THE 96 STREET Q TRAIN(YOU CAN TAKE NYC FERRY TO 90 STREET DOCK FOR A WALK UP TO MET)
NYC Health + Hospitals/Bellevue 462 First Avenue New York, New York 10016 212-562-5555
NYC Health + Hospitals/Metropolitan 1901 First Avenue New York, New York 10029
COVID-19 Testing and Antibody Testing Offered Here Monday – Thursday, Sunday, Walk Ins: 7 a.m. – 7 p.m. Friday, 7 a.m. – 12 p.m. We will be CLOSED on New Year’s Day
MONDAY, DECEMBER 27, 2021
556th Issue
The Other Pandemic:
Comparing 1918 and Today
Stephen Blank
The Other Pandemic: Comparing 1918 and Today Stephen Blank
So here we sit, wondering if Omicron will be worse than Delta, or indeed, if something worse is around the corner. Perhaps our minds wander to the “Other Pandemic” that devastated much of the world, the 1918 influenza epidemic better known as the Spanish Flu.
The 1918 disease came in two waves. In late spring of 1918, outbreaks of a flu-like illness were detected in the United States. This wave was mild and attracted little attention. Few deaths were reported, and victims recovered after a few days. By July of 1918, even as newspapers began calling it “Spanish influenza”, most health officials predicted that it would soon disappear.
But it appeared again in the fall, and far more deadly. The worst phase began in late August 1918, with widespread cases and a sudden increase in deaths in several army camps in the eastern US. By mid-September, cases and then deaths began to increase quickly in cities and then throughout the country, reaching epidemic proportions in a month. Victims died within hours or days of developing symptoms, their skin turning blue and their lungs filling with fluid that caused them to suffocate. In the six months from October 1918 to March 1919, an estimated 675,000 Americans died from influenza or pneumonia. Young adults, usually unaffected by these types of infectious diseases, were among the hardest hit groups along with the elderly and young children. The flu afflicted over 25 percent of the US population. In one year, the average life expectancy in the United States dropped by 12 years.
Victims of the Spanish flu at a barracks hospital on the campus of Colorado Agricultural College, Fort Collins, Colorado, 1918. American Unofficial Collection of World War I Photographs/PhotoQuest/Getty Images
This was a global pandemic. As the war was ending, the world was on the move. Soldiers were closely packed in trains and ships, coming home. Masses of people displaced by years of fighting flowed back home or sought new living places. The disease ran along roads and rails and into ships carrying troops.
Some historians say that 20 percent of the world’s population was infected, and that 20-50 million people were killed by it, more people than any other illness in recorded history. The range of uncertainty – 20 to 50 million – is so large because data collection was poor, particularly in war-torn Europe and Russia, and almost nonexistent in other parts of the world. Many experts feel that the actual total deaths might have been even larger, even 100 million.
Back then, there were no vaccines, no CDC or national public health department. The Food and Drug Administration was a tiny office. There were no antibiotics, intensive care units, ventilators or IV fluids. Scientists hadn’t yet seen a virus under a microscope. They lacked the technology and knew almost nothing of virology, a nascent science because viruses are physically smaller under a microscope and more difficult to identify than bacterial infections.
Today’s pandemic, COVID-19, is caused by a novel coronavirus—a new coronavirus strain not previously found in people. Symptoms include respiratory problems, fever and cough, and can lead to pneumonia and death. The first reported case appeared November 17, 2019, in the Hubei Province in China, but went unrecognized. Eight more cases appeared in December with researchers pointing to an unknown virus.
Without a vaccine, the virus quickly spread around the world. On March 11, 2020, the World Health Organization announced that the COVID-19 virus was officially a pandemic after barreling through 114 countries in three months and infecting over 118,000 people. And the spread wasn’t anywhere near finished. By December 2020, it had infected more than 75 million people and led to more than 1.6 million deaths worldwide. The number of new cases was growing faster than ever, with more than 500,000 reported each day on average. Deaths in the US are reaching 800,000 as we write.
In October 1918, more than 30,000 Pennsylvanians died from the epidemic. In New Jersey, one in every 250 citizens died of pneumonia or influenza in just this one month. Six midwestern states, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Michigan, and Wisconsin, totaled more than 30,000 deaths in October 1918, even with rates lower than states located to the east. California recorded nearly 5,000 deaths in October, and a slightly higher total in November, as the epidemic peaked later in the western regions.
What about New York City? In the first months of Covid, our City was the epicenter of the disease. In 1918, New York City seems to have managed better – or been luckier – than other major cities.
Without vaccines or protective devices, New York in 1918 responded to the epidemic relying on tools it had used in the past – surveillance, isolation, and quarantine. In September, influenza was added to the City’s list of reportable diseases, requiring all cases to be isolated. Health commissioner Dr. Royal Copeland’s strategy for combating the epidemic was not to issue closure orders, but rather to quickly identify and isolate those who fell ill. He reiterated the need to put sick family members in their own room while they recovered and to limit contact with that person for the duration of their illness. Homes with cases would be quarantined while the patient recovered, while cases in tenements would be isolated in a city hospital.
Copeland and the board of health amended the New York Sanitary Code to allow boroughs to close public places where food and drink were handled or stored if those places were found in an unsanitary condition. In conjunction with business owners, the board enacted a staggered schedule for most stores in the hope of reducing congestion on public transportation. Each theater and movie house was assigned a specific opening schedule between 7:00 pm and 9:00 pm to spread out the evening entertainment crowds. The board also made coughing and sneezing without covering your nose or
New York City Municipal Archives
Major disagreement rose over Copeland’s decision to keep schools open. In an interview with the Times, Copeland said that three-quarters of New York’s one million schoolchildren live in tenements, where their homes were frequently crowded and unsanitary and where their parents were primarily occupied in putting food on the table and keeping a roof over their heads…It was much better, therefore, to keep the schools open so that children could be monitored for illness by school physicians and nurses.
In the end, 4.7 of every 1,000 New Yorkers died of the 1918 influenza, a lower rate than those of other cities on the East Coast: 6.5 in Boston and 7.4 in Philadelphia.
It’s difficult to compare the impact of the two pandemics in the United States. A key factor is the difference between totals and rates. The current US population, a little more than 330 million, is more than three times larger than the population in 1918, estimated at 105 million. The 675,000 deaths attributed to the influenza epidemic made up 0.64 percent of the total population, a little more than six in every thousand people. By contrast, 800,000 deaths attributed to COVID-19 make up less than 0.2 percent of the total population, or around two in every thousand people. If COVID-19 caused deaths at the same rate as the 1918 epidemic, the total would approach two million.
During the peak of the 1918 influenza outbreak in New York City, a total of 31,589 all-cause deaths occurred among 5,500,000 residents, yielding an incident rate of 287.17 deaths per 100,000 person-months. During the early period of the COVID-19 outbreak in New York City, 33,465 all-cause deaths occurred among 8,280,000 residents, yielding an incident rate of 202.08 deaths per 100,000 person-months. But studies suggest that while the absolute increase in deaths over baseline observed during the peak of 1918 pandemic was higher, the far greater medical resources of the City in 2019 than meant that the two were quite comparable. Indeed, one might argue, because baseline mortality rates from 2017 to 2019 were less than half that observed from 1914 to 1917 (owing to improvements in hygiene and modern achievements in medicine, public health, and safety), the relative increase during early COVID-19 period was substantially greater than during the peak of the 1918 H1N1 influenza pandemic.
So, what does this mean? We’re still in the middle of the pandemic, just buffeted by a new variant – with no reason to believe there won’t be another. But roughly, one might conclude that, without modern medicine and public health resources, and, mostly, without vaccines, this one might well have been as bad – or worse – than 1918.
In New York City, more than 16,000 people died from influenza and pneumonia in October 1918, an average of more than 500 deaths a day just in this one city. On April 7, 2020, there were 598 new deaths due to COVID-19 in New York City, higher than any other day since the pandemic hit the city. On December 17, 2021, 21,027 new coronavirus cases were reported in NYC, the highest single day total since the early days of the pandemic. Yesterday, 200,000 new Covid cases were announced in the US, along with 1,400 deaths. The fat lady ain’t sung yet.
MONDAY PHOTO OF THE DAY
DO YOU HAVE A STORY OF THE TREE, SEND IT TO US….
Happy Holidays ahead from New York, where we had a perfect dusting of snow this morning. But it melted away before dawn’s light might have enabled us to take a photo for you.
In substitution, here’s the slippery ice rink below the tree at Rockefeller Center. Not to brag about our ability to photograph action in the blink of an eye, but you’ll note the man in gold lamé is in the midst of an awkward fall.
Liz & Herbert
WEEKEND PHOTO OF THE DAY
ED LITCHER, HARA REISER AND JOHN GATTUSO ALL ARE CORRECT THAT THIS THE JOHNSON WAX COMPANY HEADQUARTERS, RACINE, WISCONSIN DESIGNED BY FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT.
Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
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FRIDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2021
“New York Wonders
I’m Sorry I Missed”
Stephen Blank
The 554th Edition
Many engineering achievements are stars in our City’s history. The old Croton aqueduct was an engineering marvel that made the City safe and also created the foundation for its growth. The Brooklyn Bridge was an amazing feat and so were our skyscrapers that pushed higher and higher. But other engineering exploits have been long forgotten. So, let’s take a brief tour of a couple of these lost wonders.
New York Crystal Palace
The New York Crystal Palace was a dome-topped glass structure that took up nearly an entire square block. It was constructed for the Exhibition of the Industry of All Nations in New York City in 1853, on a site behind the Croton Reservoir, between Fifth and Sixth Avenues on 42nd Street, in today’s Bryant Park. The Crystal Palace was the centerpiece of this first World’s Fair hosted by the United States.
Designed by architects Georg J. B. Carstensen and Charles Gildermeister, the Crystal Palace was inspired by the Crystal Palace built in London’s Hyde Park for the Great Exhibition of 1851. At the time, the New York Crystal Palace was the largest building in the western hemisphere. The massive scale, expansive walls of glass, and beautifully ornate wrought iron details of the building brought visitors from everywhere
Visitors to the fair saw the era’s most technologically advanced innovations. One invention that debuted at the fair was Elisha Otis’s elevator. Another attraction that drew visitors to the Exhibition was the Crystal Palace’s neighbor, the Latting Observatory. At more than 300 feet tall, it was the tallest manmade perch on the continent at the time.
Sadly, the Crystal Palace would not survive much longer than the Exhibition. After the fair closed in November 1854, the building was leased as a special events space. It became the new home of the Fair of the American Institute, an event similar to the World’s Fair but smaller. Just four years later, in October 1858, a raging fire destroyed the gleaming Palace.
London had its Crystal Palace, and so did we. And San Francisco had (still has) its cable car system. And so did we.
New York Cable Car System
While horse-cars remained in operation until 1917, their network was gradually converted to cable car operation after the Civil War. Cable cars were invented in 1873 by Andrew Hallidie to climb the hills of San Francisco. They relied on an underground cable that was pulled by a remote steam-powered engine – later electric – that moved at a constant speed, with cable car operators able to either engage or disengage from the system in order to move forward or come to a stop. Third Avenue Railway System cable car, c. 1885, public domain archival image
Third Avenue Railway System cable car, c. 1885, public domain archival image
The very first New York cable car was actually a steam driven device to help rail cars cross the new Brooklyn Bridge. The Third Avenue Railroad, a horsecar operator since 1858, built the first street-running cable line from Manhattan to Harlem, on 125th Street. Apparently, in entrepreneurial New York City, there were several different cable operations, most tangled in lawsuits over Hallidie’s patent infringement. A gorgeous power station for one of these lines still stands at the corner of Houston and Broadway – the Cable Building designed by McKim, Mead & White for the Metropolitan Traction Company.
When it became operational in 1893, a fleet of 125 cars served 100,000 passengers from Bowling Green to 36th Street each day. Today, the Angelika Film Center occupies the basement space which formerly housed the cable powerhouse.
In 1883, the big idea was to build a system of 29 lines of three major uptown cable lines running on embankments. But it all came to an end around 1909 when all trollies had converted to electricity.
Paris had its pneumatic mail system. And so did we.
New York Pneumatic Mail
Beginning in 1897, New York City’s Post Office Department moved a large portion of its mail underground, through miles of pneumatic tubes installed under the city, connecting the major postal stations. Letters were packed into metallic canisters and swooshed throughout the city. In 1913, the postmaster installed new, 24-inch-wide tubes between the Grand Central and Pennsylvania Terminals, which were built large enough to carry 100-pound bags of mail.
Terminals of the Tube Receiving and Sending Apparatus in the Sub-Postoffice
The Manhattan installation was constructed by the Tubular Dispatch Company which was purchased by the New York Pneumatic Service Company, which continued to operate the tubes under contract to the postal service. Construction after 1902, starting with the line between the New York and the Brooklyn general post offices, was completed by the New York Mail and Newspaper Transportation Company, all owned entirely by the American Pneumatic Service Company.
Eventually the network stretched up both sides of Manhattan all the way to Manhattanville and East Harlem, forming a loop running a few feet below street level. Travel time from the General Post Office to Harlem was 20 minutes. A crosstown line connected the two parallel lines between the new General Post office on the West Side and Grand Central and took four minutes for mail to traverse. Using the Brooklyn Bridge, a spur line also ran from lower Manhattan, to the general post office in Brooklyn, taking four minutes. Perhaps best of all, operators of the system were called “Rocketeers”.
Image Credit: Library of Congress via Flickr // No known copyright restrictions
At its peak, the tubes transported almost 100,000 letters daily—about 30% of the city’s mail. But I don’t think our pneumatic system ever rivaled the romanticism of the Parisian “petit bleu”. In François Truffaut’s 1968 movie Baisers Volés (Stolen Kisses), we can follow the physical journey of the protagonist’s heartbreak around the city, after he poignantly posts a farewell love letter in the slot marked ‘PNEUMATIQUES’ and bids it adieu.
When we entered World War I, the high cost of operating the tubes was seen as too expensive, since funds were needed for the war effort. The underground delivery system ended permanently in 1953.
Remarkable memories in our City’s history. Thanks for taking the trip with me.
It’s the Holland Tunnel ventilation shaft/building, this one on the New Jersey side. And thank you for the interesting article on the Houston Hall buildings. I work a block away, at Hudson Street (I am in the office half of the time these days, remote the other half). I’ve never had occasion to go to Houston Hall though.
Andy Sparberg, our transportation guru got it right, too!!
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
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The owner of the livery stable at 62 Downing Street was in financial trouble in 1873 and lost his property in foreclosure. On September 18 a “mortgage sale” was held of “a large number of very valuable Horses, Clarences, open and closed Coaches, light and road Wagons, Hearses, Phaetons, double and single Harness, Blankets, Whips, Stable Fixtures, &c.” according to the listing. Directly behind the stable was the Hammersley Foundry. (West Houston Street had been called Hammersley Street prior to 1860.)
In 1877 John Nichol sold both properties to David I. Christie and Charles H. See for the equivalent of $120,000 in today’s money. The Downing Street building was three stories tall, while the former foundry building was just one. Neither of the brick-faced structures aspired to architectural significance, their builders content to create utilitarian structures. Christie and See joined the two disparate buildings internally.
It appears they operated the combined buildings as a stable. On May 2, 1886 Christie advertised in the New York Herald:
For Sale–A sidebar top buggy, Brewster make; single set harness, three blankets, three lap robes, all as good as new; also a good work horse. Inquire of D. E. Christie, No. 224 West Houston St.
The sale may have been prompted by the men’s having leased the property to Daniel H. Johnson that year. He converted it to a wagon factory.
In the 1890’s the neighborhood was filling with Italian immigrants and Blacks. By 1896 a portion the building was home to the Unique Club, a gathering spot for local Blacks. Its proprietor, Thomas Jones, described it as “a regularly organized club,” meaning that it was a legitimate social club. Whether the it was strictly “regular” is debatable. But either way, Detective John J. Gerrity saw potential profit. He demanded $20 per month for police “protection.”
Trouble came in February when Gerrity pressured Jones for $5 more per month, threatening to shut the club down. Jones refused and then reported Gerrity’s threats to the captain of detectives at the police station. But, according to The Sun, he “heard nothing more of it.” Then, on Saturday night, February 27, the Unique Club was raided, and 13 men were arrested and charged with gambling.
In court, Jones told the judge of Gerrity’s extortion. On March 1, 1897, The Sun reported that the judge asked why “he paid for police protection if the club was regularly organized and the law was not violated.” Jones explained that he did it “to avoid trouble as he knew that other clubs had had trouble through stool-pigeons sent in by the police, who would swear to anything asked of them.” Considering racial bias rampant within the police force at the time, Jones made a valid point.
Judge Simms considered the charges against Gerrity “very serious.” He discharged the other 12 men, but held Jones for trial for operating a gambling house (Gerrity had provided a “stool-pigeon,” exactly as Jones had feared.) Nevertheless, the judge urged Jones “to report his story of Gerrity to the officials at Police Headquarters,” as reported by the New York Herald. “Jones said he would certainly visit [Police Commissioner Theodore] Roosevelt.”
Robert Christie sold the property to the Enarem Realty Corporation in 1927. On October 28, The New York Evening Post remarked that it had been in the Christie family “for nearly fifty years,” adding, “It is occupied by [an] old three-story building.” The following year, in December, the new owners leased the buildings to the Firestone Tire & Rubber Company, Inc. for $6,000 per year (closer to $91,000 today).
A renovation completed the following year resulted in a “garage for more than five automobiles.” It was possibly at this time that the upper floors of the Downing Street building were removed. It became one of the firm’s New York Firestone Service Stores.
The renovations done by Firestone did not extend to exterior charm. via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services. In June 1933, Harvey Firestone described the service stores to The New York Sun. “One of the most important things in the eyes of the motor car owner today is the element of time…It annoys car owners to make many stops for service. As a result, Firestone has established its system of one-stop service store, equipping them with highly efficient machinery to give the car owner the best of service quickly and economically.” He said that only “factory trained experts are employed” in the stores.
The Firestone store occupied the building for decades. It had become the King Bear Auto Service Center by 1981. But the changing in the neighborhood resulting in a renovation in 2003 for an “eating and drinking establishment.”
On February 27, 2013 Brian Sloan, writing in The New York Times, reported, “There’s a new beer hall in town and, surprise, it’s actually in Manhattan. You’d think it would be tough to fit one into the bourgeois West Village, but the owners of Heartland Brewery have done just that, repurposing a parking garage…into a fine de siècle themed drinking parlor for up to 500 people.” Sloan called Houston Hall “Disney does Five Points,” saying “it almost feels like a Hollywood backlot version of Tammany-era new York, with rusticated brick walls, meticulously faded old-timey signage and period props galore.”
The rather bedraggled appearance of the two structures testifies to their unglamorous history.
photographs by the author
For years I have passed by these buildings on my way to the Board of Elections at 200 Varick Street. Not much to admire since the sites are busy after I leave the area. The area now is the home of Shake Shack, Chipolte, and even Trader Joe’s at Spring between 6th and Varick!
GROUP OF FOUR TREES BY JEAN DUBUFFET AT ONE CHASE MANHATTAN PLAZA 404040 ED LITCHER, LAURA HUSSEY BOTH GOT IT!!
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Deborah Dorff All image are copyrighted (c)
DAYTONIAN IN MANHATTAN
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Winter Cathedral by Mandylights. Courtesy of Brooklyn Botanic Garden.Through January 9, 2022, the Brooklyn Botanic Garden (BBG) will host Lightscape, an after-dark illuminated spectacular celebrating the beauty of winter. The exhibition will feature a festive trail winding through the garden’s 52-acre landscape complete with colorful light displays highlighting the trees, landscape, and architecture and site-specific music and sounds. More than 18 works of art will be on display and will be animated with over one million lights. One standout display will be the Mandylights’ Winter Cathedral, a 100-foot tunnel adorned with thousands of LED lights in the shape of a traditional Gothic arch. Covering the Cherry Esplanade will be the animated light show Sea of Life by Ithaca. Other attractions will include Ashley Bertling’s Fire Garden, which uses bespoke structures to fill the garden with real fire from candles, accompanied by seasonal music, and Frog Man’s Laser Pond, which involves laser beams being shot across the water in the Japanese-Hill-and-Pond Garden to the sound of music. Lightscape will also directly highlight the work of local artists including Jacqueline Woodson’s site-specific poems, collectively known as Remember the Light Inside You, which will be projected onto trees, shrubs, and hillocks near Bluebell Wood. Through this series of poems, Woodson aims to engage visitors’ senses and immerse them fully into the beauty of nature, even during one of the darkest times of the year. For nonmembers of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, tickets are priced at $34 for adults and $18 for children ages 3-12. BBG member admission tickets are $30 for adults and $16 for children.
The Great Debate by Hebru Brantley. Photo by @pixelatedstreets.
On display at The Battery in Lower Manhattan is artist Hebru Brantley’s 16-foot steel sculpture The Great Debate, depicting Flyboy — a superhero character of color created by Brantley in response to the few characters of color found within the comic book world. Brantley was inspired by the Tuskegee Airmen, the first African-American military aviator pilots who fought in World War II. Flyboy serves as a nod of admiration towards these men, aimed at inspiring future generations to soar above their predicted possibilities, regardless of the challenges standing in their way. Presented in partnership with NYC Parks’ Art in the Parks program, The Great Debate forces its audience to reflect on the meaning of freedom in American society today. The Great Debate will be available for view through November 13, 2022.
A view of The Fifth Season: Annual Holiday Lighting on Fifth Avenue. Photo by Slaven Vlasic/Getty Images for Fifth Avenue Association.Located along Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue is The Fifth Season, a series of 32 hand-crafted-in-Brooklyn animal sculptures across from the Plaza Hotel, 5,000 feet of lighting, a skating rink, and 24 handmade icebergs surrounding the Pulitzer Fountain. The installation is accompanied by music from composer Paul Brill, with all elements created by artisans of Harlequin Designs.
Day Into Night Into Day in the 138 St-Grand Concourse Subway Station Stairwell. Photo by Argenis Apolinario. Inside the downtown stairwell between the mezzanine entrance and southbound platform at the 138th St-Grand Concourse Subway Station in the Bronx is Amy Pryor’s mosaic artwork Day Into Night Into Day. Presented by MTA Arts & Design, the four-part mosaic depicts the shifting hours of daylight and darkness over four seasons using a spectrum of colors. Its structure is uniquely based around a twenty-four-hour clock and pie charts. Overlapping the seasonal sunrises and sunsets are charts of stars rarely seen from the Bronx at night. The mosaic’s top left square depicts the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, while the top right represents the vernal equinox, the first day of spring. In the lower-left is the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, and in the lower right is the autumnal equinox, the first day of fall.As Sandra Bloodworth, Director of MTA Arts & Design stated: “In many ways, Day Into Night Into Day parallels the daily journeys taken by travelers through the station to and from the Mott Haven neighborhood. Amy’s rendering of the rising and setting of the sun highlights the cosmic energy involved in determining the length of our days and nights. The sparkling surfaces of the mosaics bring a contemplative spirit into the station, reminding us that while the evening brings our day to a close, every morning provides us with a fresh start. The artwork captures our imagination and adds a burst of energy and a wave of tranquility to the beginning and conclusion of our travels.”
Photo credit: Martin Seck,
Flatiron/23rd Street Partnership In collaboration with the New York City Department of Transportation’s Temporary Art Program and Van Alen Institute, the Flatiron Partnership will present Atelier Cho Thompson’s art installation Interwoven in the Flatiron North Public Plaza. Inspired by New York’s tapestry of cultures and peoples, Interwoven is a series of interactive archways activated with color-coded sensors. When two or more people pass through sensors of the same color, Interwoven responds with the corresponding light and musical compositions by local artists. The installation also features an interactive story wall made of backlit papers hung on a grid — allowing visitors to share responses to the prompt “I dream of a world where together we can…” which was selected by Youth Fellows from the People’s Bus NYC. Alongside Interwoven, four acapella performances by Christmas carolers will take place in the North Public Plaza. Interwoven was chosen through the eighth annual Flatiron Holiday Design Competition and will remain on display through January 2, 2022.
NYBG Photo. Courtesy of the New York Botanical Garden. This November the Holiday Train Show will return to the New York Botanical Garden (NYBG) for its 30th anniversary. Visitors will have the opportunity to marvel as model trains zip through a display of more than 175 New York landmarks, each having been recreated from natural materials such as birch bark, lotus pods, cinnamon sticks, cones, acorns, and seeds. Inside the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory, a miniature wonderland will feature classic New York structures like the Empire State Building, Brooklyn Bridge, and Rockefeller Center. In honor of the show’s 30th anniversary, a new replica of the LuEsther T. Mertz Library and Haupt Conservatory has been created. The Holiday Train Show will run from November 20, 2021 through January 23, 2022.On 25 select nights starting November 24, 2021 until January 22, 2022, NYBG GLOW will light up the Botanical Garden. Around 1.5 miles of the Botanical Garden will be filled with washes of bright colors, thousands of energy-efficient LED lights, and illuminated plant stories, with the Haupt Conservatory and Mertz Library Building serving as the centerpieces. During NYBG GLOW nights, beverages and light fare will be served at the outdoor bars or the Bronx Night Market Holiday Pop-Up. To celebrate the holiday season, ice sculpting, music, and pop-up performances will be available around the garden.
A PERFECT HOLIDAY GIFT
Ron Crawford’s new print of the Queensboro Bridge is available at the kiosk, a perfect holiday gift, $35-
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated:
UNTAPPED NEW YORK
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JOYOUS HOLIDAY GREETINGS FROM OUR FRIENDS AT COLER. THANKS TO MARGARET LOPES AND THE THERAPEUTIC RECREATION STAFF FOR THE WONDERFUL DECORATIONS
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 21, 2021
ISSUE #551
FROM EPHEMERAL NEW YORK
THE HOTEL WOLCOTT
IN DAYS GONE BY
A stunning Christmas feast served to guests at a posh Gilded Age hotel
The Wolcott at 31st Street and Fifth Avenue, about 1910
In the Wolcott’s Gilded Age heyday, however, the hotel’s clientele were a lot higher on the social ladder. Opened in 1904 in the hopping theater and shopping district near Herald Square that was fast supplanting the rough and ready Tenderloin, this Beaux-Arts beauty hosted notables like Edith Wharton and Isadora Duncan.
The Wolcott menu front cover The Wolcott operated on what was known as the “European plan,” which meant that meals were not included in the room price. So when the hotel dining room put together this mind-blowing Christmas dinner menu for December 25, 1905, hotel guests had to pay extra.
What a feast it was! The menu featured more than a hundred options, starting with an array of oysters and clams and then 25 or so relishes (lots of caviar and “chow-chow”), soups (turtle, of course; it’s an old New York favorite), and fish (codfish tongues?) before getting to the official entrees.
If beef, ham, or chicken isn’t your idea of a Christmas dinner main course, the Wolcott offered plenty of game options, like grouse, woodcock, and partridge.
A chef in the Wolcott kitchen, 1917
The vegetable choices were quite extensive, and that list included different varieties of potatoes, including “French fried”—perhaps an early mention of the classic side we’re so used to with a burger today.
The dessert course went old-school with plum pudding. But look at all those ice cream options! Fruit, cheese, and then coffee and tea rounded out the feast. I wonder what “Wolcott special milk” is?
The menu reveals some things about life among the upper classes in Gilded Age New York. Unlike today’s pared-down, curated restaurant menu, variety seems to have been important. French dishes were certainly popular, likely thanks to the influence of Delmonico’s, which by 1905 had moved up to 44th Street and was still a leading option in a city where dining out was becoming more of a regular thing. How the hotel’s dining staff managed to obtain and store all of these food choices is mind-boggling. Chefs must have been down at the city’s great food markets, like Washington Market, early in the morning, and an army of cooks likely chopping, peeling, and cleaning all day.
One thing remains the same, though: Christmas dinner was meant to be a celebration, just as it is today.
At the foot of Old Fulton Street in Brooklyn Bridge Park, sits a clapboard house with a tower. Built in 1926 at the former site of the Fulton Ferry landing, this structure was a fireboat house for the New York City Fire How the hotel’s dining staff managed to obtain and store all of these food choices is mind-boggling. Chefs must have been down at the city’s great food markets, like Washington Market, early in the morning, and an army of cooks likely chopping, peeling, and cleaning all day.
One thing remains the same, though: Christmas dinner was meant to be a celebration, just as it is today.
ED LITCHER, ARON EISENPREISS, LAURA HUSSEY GOT IT.. IF I MISSED YOUR NAME, SORRY, I AM CATCHING UP FROM 3 DAYS AWAY!!
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
EPHEMERAL NEW YORK
[Top image: MCNY, x2011.34.303; Second image: NYPL
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated
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Frances Steloff was the daughter of a Russian immigrant and itinerant rabbi who, in an age of rising anti-Semitism, was one of the early Jewish settlers in Saratoga Springs. The large family lived in dire poverty.
After the death of her mother, Frances was “informally” adopted by a wealthy Boston couple. Having run away from her foster parents, she made her way to New York, worked in a Brooklyn department store selling corsets, before establishing a tiny bookshop in Midtown Manhattan. On her death, after eighty-one years in the business, she was revered as one of America’s most influential booksellers and bibliophiles. Founder of the Gotham Book Mart, she turned her establishment into a center for avant-garde literature
Taking the Waters
Upstate New York mineral springs have been valued throughout American history for their medicinal properties. European colonists gradually obtained most of the springs from Indigenous People, and the habit of “taking the waters” to combat illness and promote health was recommended by colonial doctors. Boarding houses and hotels were constructed to accommodate an increasing number of visitors.
One of the first permanent dwellings in Saratoga Springs was built around 1776. An inn was constructed above High Rock Spring, and, in 1802, a tavern and boarding house was built by Gideon Putnam across from Congress Spring. This became the luxurious Union Hotel in 1864 and the 834-room Grand Union Hotel five years later.
Although spa activity had been central to Saratoga in the 1810s, by the 1820s the resort had hotels with great ballrooms, opera houses, stores and clubhouses. The Union Hotel had its own esplanade, fountain, and formal landscaping by then.
One regular guest to the springs staying at the impressive United States Hotel on Broadway was Joseph Bonaparte, the deposed King of Spain and elder brother of Napoleon. After defeat at Waterloo, Joseph had fled to America in 1816 and acquired the Point Breeze estate in Bordentown, New Jersey. It was his home until 1839 when he returned to Europe.
The house became famous for its gardens, extensive art collection of Flemish and Italian masters, and a library of some 8,000 volumes. Eager to encourage the fine arts in America, Joseph generously lent items for exhibitions to the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts and other places. He was instrumental in disseminating European culture and artistic knowledge to early nineteenth century Americans.
Thanks to its relative proximity to New York City, Saratoga Springs became the nation’s top upscale resort and tourist destination. With it, the town’s character changed. Not health, but pleasure became its major appeal. In 1863 the Saratoga Race Course was opened where members of the Vanderbilt and Whitney families brought their thoroughbred horses, watched the races, and shared in Saratoga’s hectic social life.
The town gained a reputation for its “gentlemen gamblers.” In 1870, John Morrissey built the casino in Congress Park and with his successor Richard Canfield helped make it the “Monte Carlo of America.” The presence of these men was accepted by locals as they played by the rules, supported various charities, and refrained from violence. That all changed when Arnold Rothstein, the “Grandfather of Organized Crime” and the “Brain” of New York’s Jewish mob, settled in town. Gambling soon became associated with gangland activities, especially during Prohibition. By the late nineteenth century, the Saratoga springs were being depleted by commercial use. Medical advances reduced the springs’ therapeutic appeal. Anti-Semitism
In 1877 Saratoga became the center of a controversy that attracted nationwide publicity. Joseph Seligman was a Bavaria-born Jewish banker and railway investor, a prominent and politically influential figure. On June 13th, 1877, he and his family showed up at the Grand Union where they had holidayed on previous occasions.
Although still a prime resort, business had been slack in recent times. Owner Alexander Stewart and his manager Judge Henry Hilton (a jurist and entrepreneur) blamed the cause of decline on the presence of too many “Israelites” at the hotel; many customers did not wish to stay at a hotel that freely admitted Jews. When Stewart died in April 1876, Hilton decided to impose admission restrictions. Jews were barred from registering. Seligman was denied entrance to the hotel.
What seemed initially a mere feud between two powerful men, became one of the first widely publicized anti-Semitic controversies in the United States. In a headline set entirely in capital letters, the New York Times of June 19th, 1877, ran an article on “A SENSATION AT SARATOGA.” The case became a national topic of discussion. A group of Seligman’s friends started a boycott of the hotel, eventually causing its decline and demise. Other hotels nevertheless followed suit by posting notices such as “Hebrews Need Not Apply” and “No Jews or Dogs Admitted.”
Within a few years, the mass migration of Jews from Eastern European would begin, giving rise to a spike in American anti-Semitism. From 1880 to 1910 near 1.5 million Jews fled pogroms and violent discrimination in Russia and elsewhere.
One early Jewish settler in Saratoga was Benjamin Goldsmith who had arrived from Russia in 1865. He eventually operated a prominent cigar shop on Broadway. By 1910, the (Orthodox) Jewish community in Saratoga Springs consisted of some twenty-five mostly poor families who stuck together in a neighborhood full of boarding houses and cheap restaurants nicknamed “The Gut.”
Amongst the early Russian newcomers were Simon and Tobe Steloff with their children.
Flower Girl & Book Lover
Ida Frances (Fanny) Steloff was born on September 31st, 1887, the sixth of fourteen children in an immigrant family and the first to be born in America. Her father Simon was a dry goods peddler, itinerant rabbi, and Talmudic scholar who spent much of his time in meditation while his large family was close to starvation.
Fanny’s mother died in 1890. Simon immediately remarried and continued to have more children. One cannot cogitate all day. The stepmother was said to be a cold and indifferent character. Fanny’s younger years were recalled as difficult and dark.
Beneath their home’s single lamp, Simon would teach his sons to read from religious books he kept on his shelf. His girls looked on from the dark, not allowed to be part of the educational process. It filled young Frances with pain and envy, but also ingrained a deep love for books. For the rest of her life she would associate learning with “a circle of light.”
Taken from school at a young age to help in putting food on the table, Frances started selling little bouquets of flowers to the patrons who sat on the verandas of Saratoga’s grand hotels. Aged seven, she became known as “Fanny the Flower Girl.” She also took care of her younger brother who accompanied her on her trading rounds. A small and attractive boy, he received much attention and boosted her sales.
One day, a wealthy Boston couple expressed the wish to adopt her little brother (the informal procedure by which poor children were “farmed” out was common at the time). Simon refused to let his son leave, but offered one of his daughters instead. Pleased to escape her stepmother, Fanny left with her foster parents for Boston. Being used as a housemaid, she eventually ran away to New York City and never saw her adoptive parents again.
Having established herself, she began work at Frederick Loeser’s luxury department store in Fulton Street, Brooklyn, selling corsets. Once she was transferred to the book and magazine department to assist during the Christmas rush, she quickly found her niche. Her love for books had not died. Taking jobs and learning the trade in several bookstores, she slowly made her way up. By 1919, she was employed at Brentano’s, then the largest bookselling firm in the world.
One day in December 1919, while walking towards Times Square to see her sister who worked at the Hotel Aster, she noticed a “Shop for Rent” sign in the basement of an old brownstone. On January 2nd, 1920, in the middle of theater land, she opened her tiny Gotham Book & Art store on West 45th Street. As the district was also the center of the music publishing industry, the location proved a perfect choice. She soon built up a clientele of writers, artists, actors, and musicians. George and Ida Gershwin were amongst her first and most frequent visitors as their studio was on the same block.
Wise Men Fish Here Steloff’s ‘Wise Men Fish Here’ sign in 2007
1923, planning permission was given for her building to be pulled down, forcing Frances to move her store to 51 West 47th Street. She changed its name to Gotham Book Mart (Gotham as a nickname for New York had been popularized by Washington Irving). Outside she displayed the iconic cast-iron sign “Wise Men Fish Here.”
Her customers remained loyal. John Dos Passos, H. L.Mencken, Theodore Dreiser, and many other prominent writers of the day followed her. The store continued to expand and gained a reputation for promoting the avant-garde.
Frances focused primarily on the “little” literary magazines of the day where many modernist writers would first publish their work. Steloff’s reputation reached Europe. She started to receive orders from T. S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, and James Joyce. In return, she made every effort to supply their books to her customers, even if certain works were officially banned.
In order to smuggle Ulysses into the country, she arranged for friends in Paris to disassemble the books and mail them in gatherings. On arrival in New York these were sown back together again. Frances ordered Lady Chatterley’s Lover directly from D.H. Lawrence in Italy, arranging for customers to smuggle them in their luggage. She did the same with Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer. Her disregard of and contempt for the censor resulted in a good deal of problems with the authorities. In 1936 she braved arrest for selling André Gide’s autobiography Si le grain ne meurt (If It Die).
Gotham Book Mart managed to survive throughout the Depression and the Second World War. Over a period of time, Frances acquired a long list of loyal literary customers. Christopher Morley, William Carlos Williams, Thornton Wilder, Marianne Moore, Anais Nin, Gertrude Stein, and Alice B. Toklas, they all paid her a visit when they were in New York. Where possible Frances employed young authors. LeRoi Jones and Allen Ginsberg worked for a while at the Gotham. Tennessee Williams held his job as a clerk at the store for less than a day. Frances sacked him for being lazy and sloppy. The shop also functioned as a literary salon, hosting meetings of the James Joyce Society, organizing poetry readings, and holding exhibitions. It was a catalyst in the formation of the international avant-garde.
Frances was close friends with Edgar Stravinsky and his wife. When Edith Sitwell was in town she introduced the British poet to the composer and arranged tickets for her to attend a Stravinsky concert at Carnegie Hall. When Frances gave a party in honor of Jean Cocteau, the French author was accompanied to the occasion by Charlie Chaplin.
Having fled war-torn Europe in 1940, Henry Miller arrived in New York without a penny to his name. He turned to Frances for help. When on a brief vacation (she rarely left the premises of her bookshop) in New Mexico in the company of Georgia O’Keefe, she met Frieda Lawrence and other members of the literary commune gathered there.
In 1965 William Garland Rogers published Frances Steloff’s biography Wise Men Fish Here. That same year she received the gold medal from the Academy of Arts and Letters for her contribution to the arts. Fearing that she was slowing down, she sold Gotham Book Mart to her chosen successor Andreas Brown, the cataloger of John Updike’s manuscripts at Harvard University. The deal was struck in 1967, but Frances remained actively involved until her death, aged a hundred and one, in April 1989. Her career as a bookseller had spanned eighty-one years. Gotham Book Mart finally closed its doors in 2007.
Now home to an ice cream franchise, this building, opened in 1926, was formerly used to berth fireboats and dry firehoses, hence the tower. On this spot, at the north end of Old Fulton Street where Brooklyn Heights meets DUMO in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, had been the elaborate Victorian Fulton Ferry Terminal; the ferry, connecting Brooklyn and Manhattan’s Fulton streets, began operating in 1814 by Robert Fulton’s ferry company and was discontinued in 1924. The building contained the offices for the harbor firefighting patrol until the late 1970s. (Contrary to popular belief, Fulton didn’t invent the steamboat, but his ship the Clermont established that it could be commercially viable.)
The opening of the New York and Brooklyn Bridge in 1883 assured the decline of this and other ferries on the East River. Fulton Ferry service ended in 1924.
In addition, the Kings County Elevated Railway opened the line, from dual western terminals at Fulton Ferry and Brooklyn Bridge (Sands Street) east to Nostrand Avenue, on April 24, 1888. It was extended east to Albany Avenue on May 30, 1888. The line was further extended to Ralph Avenue on September 20, 1888 and completed to BMT Fulton Street Line at the west end of East New York in early November.
Service from Fulton Ferry ended May 31, 1940, and the Fulton Street el was gradually cut back until all of it was eliminated. Today’s A and C trains duplicate its route.
SOURCES
NEW YORK ALMANACK JAAP HARSKAMP
Illustrations, from above: Congress Spring, Saratoga, 1849; Morrissey’s Gambling House (later Canfield Casino) 1871; Saratoga Racecourse in 1907; the Grand Union Hotel in Saratoga Springs; Lynn Gilbert’s iconic photograph of Frances Steloff in 1978; and Steloff’s ‘Wise Men Fish Here’ sign in 2007 (the year of the bookstore’s closure).
Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
FUNDING PROVIDED BY ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE GRANTS CITY COUNCIL REPRESENTATIVE BEN KALLOS DISCRETIONARY FUNDING THRU DYCD
RIHS/NYPL ZOOM PROGRAM ON TUESDAY, DECEMBER 21, 2021 AT 6:30 P.M. WITH MELINDA HUNT, FOUNDER OF THE HART ISLAND PROJECT
UPDATE ON HART ISLAND HART ISLAND, THE HOME OF THE NYC MUNICIPAL CEMETERY HAS HAD MANY CHANGES IN THE LAST FEW YEARS. THE ISLAND IS NOW ADMINISTERED BY THE NYC PARKS DEPARTMENT.
As if you didn’t already know, the Port of New York is a pretty big place. It’s bounded by some 650 miles of developed shoreline of 5 boroughs and 7 New Jersey towns. At the peak of its activity, just after WWII, it contained 600 individual ship anchorages, piers and warehouses. It was serviced by a fleet of 575 tugboats. It was watched over by a sturdy team of fireboats.
Fireboats have been around for a long time. The City’s first official purpose-made fireboat dates to 1875, but, decades earlier, in 1809, New York City volunteer firefighters first mounted a crude hand-operated pump on a small boat. This was the beginning of the American fireboat.
Early fireboats were familiar, post-Civil War steam-powered tugboats found in many harbors. Although not specifically intended for fireboat duty, some were fitted with steam-operated pumps and nozzles with wide flexibility for auxiliary fireboat use. Their new equipment was more efficient than hand-operated pumps but the problem was that these early tugboat fireboats were not always available when needed. Also, since they were usually equipped with a single boiler, it was difficult to maneuver and to pump water at the same time.
In 1865, the Metropolitan Board of Fire Commissioners took over the management of the Fire Department and discussed the need for a “floating engine to fight fires on and along the river fronts.” They signed a contract in 1866 with John C. Baxter & Son, owners of the steam salvage tug John Fuller, for the services of the boat on a “call basis” at a yearly rental.
Fuller served the Department for more than nine years, until the first city-owned fireboat was put in service in 1875. At first, when Fuller was needed at a fire, a messenger was sent from Fire Headquarters in Mercer Street to her West Street dock, with orders to respond. The first fire at which the “floating engine” operated as a unit of the Department was on October 16, 1866, at 307 West Street, close to her berth. In his report to the Commissioners for the year 1866, Chief Elisha Kingsland wrote that the contract for the use of the Fuller had proven most satisfactory.
The need for fireboats escalated with the expansion of America’s ports and waterfronts because of the significant fire risks they posed, and cities began buying purpose-made fireboats. In 1873, the Boston Fire Department commissioned the William F. Flanders, the first American steam-powered fireboat. This was followed a year later when the New York Commissioners contracted for the construction of a fireboat priced at $23,800. When placed in service on May 12, 1875, the boat, named William F. Havemeyer, was berthed at the foot of Pike Street, East River, and Engine Company 43 was organized to man her, with two officers, two engineers, pilot and five firemen – all quartered on board. Havemeyer remained in service until 1901.
Drawing of the “William F. Havemeyer”, Harper’s Weekly, Nov 11, 1882
Even with an “official” Fire Department fireboat, competition still seems to have broken out with unofficial fire fighters. The Harper’s Weekly Havemeyer story reports this: “An amusing incident in the career of the fire-boat happened a few years ago, upon her return from a short excursion down the bay, with a party of Western chief engineers of fire departments on board. An elevator in Brooklyn was on fire, and several tug-boats were throwing streams of water upon it. As the Havemeyer approached, with a view of rendering assistance, and at the same time showing the Western visitors of what she was capable, the tugs directed the several streams against her for the purpose of driving her off. Instead, however, of leaving she turned two of her powerful streams upon them, and within five minutes had the field to herself having completely deluged her opponents. She then went to work and subdued the fire, to the great admiration of her guests.”
A second fireboat, Zophar Mills, was built in 1882 and placed in service on April 14, 1883 as Engine 51 and berthed at Pier 42, North River. Zophar Mills was the first iron hull fireboat and served the Department for 52 years, until 1934.
883 Drawing of Zophar Mills, John Landers – Beth Klein Collection
Zophar Mills was the first (or second) fireboat to respond to the General Slocum fire
The most powerful and most famous of these early fireboats was New Yorker, placed in service on February 1, 1891. She was the first New York fireboat with a steel hull and the first with a shore station. Its architecturally distinctive station near Castle Garden became a landmark as famous as the boat itself.
Fireboat “New Yorker,” tied up at the Station House, c. 1910; Fireboat, “New Yorker,” 1903. Department of Docks and Ferries Collection. NYC Municipal Archives
New Yorker was the most powerful fireboat in the world. When Admiral Dewey came to New York with the flagship “Olympia” after the battle of Manilla Bay, New Yorker led the water parade of hundreds of craft. After its storied career, the New Yorker was taken out of service in 1931. The firehouse was reaching the end of its days and Battery Park was about to be closed for several years while the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel was built. Engine 57 was moved to then Pier 1 in 1941.
Fireboats commissioned after 1896 established the model on which the modern fireboat is designed. The new fireboats were equipped with multiple, high capacity boilers. They were faster and capable of delivering large volumes of water at high pressures without affecting the boat’s maneuverability. The new fireboats designed for one purpose: to deliver large volumes of water at high pressures during a fire.
The internal combustion engine was first introduced into fireboats in 1918. But the gasoline engine didn’t last long because of concerns about explosions. By 1927, many of the steam and gasoline powered fireboats had been decommissioned or were overhauled and retrofitted with more efficient and economical diesel engines or diesel/electric powered motors and pumps. By replacing steam with diesel and diesel electric power sources, boat designers were able to incorporate multiple engines and pumps into the same space occupied by large steam boilers, steam engines, and pumps. For the first time, propulsion and pumping systems could be separated, allowing fireboats to maneuver and pump at the same time. This separation of systems solved the problem that early versions of the fireboat had experienced being in the dangerous situation of choosing between propulsion and pumping.
At its peak, in the early 1900’s, the FDNY Marine Division had 10 fireboat stations within the city. Budget cuts in the late 1960’s and 1970’s reduced the fleet to 4 Marine Companies.
The role played by fireboats on 9/11 deserves an entire article. But in brief, when the towers came down, the water mains in Lower Manhattan around the area of the towers were all destroyed, so fireboats pumped water ashore to the land companies so they could battle the fires. The John J. Harvey, a small fireboat built in 1931, over three days straight pumped 38 million gallons into the city.
The fireboats were a part of a larger boatlift operation with some 150 vessels from tug boats and ferries to the Coast Guard and New York Police Department boats. Hundreds of mariners on the water that day helped to evacuate nearly 500,000 people. Fireboats remained in support for nearly two weeks.
Following 9/11, the department recognized the continued value of a fire boat fleet and developed plans for upgrading the fleet to meet the needs of the future. In the 2010 and 2011, three new and powerful boats entered service. The older boats have either gone into reserve status or retirement.
Today, the FDNY operates the most modern and powerful fire boats in the world. The two “big” boats, the “Three Forty Three” and the nearly identical “Fire Fighter II” are significantly larger than all older boats and can pump twice the water. The city got its money’s worth out of those older boats. The “Three Forty Three” replaced the “John D. McKean,” christened in 1954 and “Fire Fighter II” replaced the “Fire Fighter,” christened in 1938. A third boat “The Bravest” is the fastest of the fleet, cruising at 50 knots when needed. The newest of the big boats, named for the Deputy Commissioner killed on 9-11, “William M. Feehan,” was delivered in the fall of 2015.
Stephen Blank RIHS December 11, 2021
William M. Feehan, Courtesy MetalCraft Marine
WE ARE OFF FOR A FEW DAYS, SO JUST HOLD YOUR BREATH TO SEE IF YOUR ANSWERS WERE CORRECT!
Funding Provided by: Roosevelt Island Corporation Public Purpose Funds Council Member Ben Kallos City Council Discretionary Funds thru DYCD Text by Judith Berdy
Edited by Deborah Dorff ALL PHOTOS COPYRIGHT RIHS. 2020 (C) PHOTOS IN THIS ISSUE (C) JUDITH BERDY RIHS
In 1895, the old building at 37 East 12th Street underwent a flurry of sales. Emil Bloch purchased it from John W. Condit “for a sum less than $150,000,” according to the Real Estate Record & Guide. Shortly afterward, on October 11, he resold it to Jacob Hirsh, “for improvement.” And a month later, Hirsh sold the property to architect and builder Albert Wagner. On November 30 the Record & Guide reported that Wagner “will improve the plot by erecting an eight or nine-story modern business structure.”
Wagner was already responsible for many mercantile and loft buildings throughout the city. For this eight-story structure, he turned to the Italian Renaissance for inspiration. The two-story base was clad in cast iron and encrusted with intricate arabesques.
Wagner used terra cotta to lavishly embellish the upper floors. The three-story mid-section featured a centered, full-height, engaged Ionic column. A complex band framed this area, which was flanked by two pairs of three-story, barley twisted colonettes. The dramatic treatment of the top three floors included shell-carved pediments supported by Corinthian columns at the sixth floor, and an arcade of deep-set windows at the eighth.
The building was completed by December 1896 and it filled with garment manufacturers. Among the first was Henry Cohen & Co., makers of ladies’ silk waists, or shirtwaists.
In March 1902 Fromberg & Goldstein moved in, doing business as the newly-formed Fashion Cloak and Suit Company. It was not long before the fledgling firm was in trouble. In September Siegel Brothers had not been paid for 13 pieces of cloth, valued at $233 and filed a complaint. But, according to The New York Times on September 12, when Assistant Deputy Mayforth went to the factory, he “found it closed, and was informed that it had been cleaned out on Saturday last.”
The firm’s creditors did not wait for authorities to find the missing owners. The Fur Trade Review reported, “On September 18 a petition in involuntary bankruptcy was filed against the concern.”
In the meantime, other apparel firms fared much better. Operating from the building at the time was Edelman Bros., makers of “misses’ and children’s cloaks and suits.” In its January 1904 issue, Cloaks and Furs remarked, “Every season they turn out many new and exclusive styles for the young folks which make ‘hits.'”
Other apparel-related tenants were cloak manufacturer Moses Natelson; Horwitz & Goodman; A. Lehman & Co., makers of tailored suits; and La Mode Skirt Co.
A. Lehman & Co. catered to the carriage trade. An advertisement on September 9, 1908 touted its “Exceptionally attractive Designs made in the latest Fall models. Critically correct to your measure.” The prices ranged from $15 to $35–the more expensive equal to about $1,000 today.
During the 1910’s the building was home to D. Kaplan, makers of shirtwaists. The firm employed two men and 26 women. Other tenants were Nelson and Ladin, another shirtwaist manufacturer; A. Ratkowsky, “medium-priced furs;” and Kurshan Bros., importers of “venetians” (worsted fabrics used in suits, coats and dresses).
The Depression years saw a change in the tenant list. While at least one garment firm, Benjamin Margolis, maker of pajamas and blouses, moved in in 1931, a variety of industries were now represented. That same year the Crown Footstool Corporation leased a floor. They were joined by the Joy Packaging Co., Inc., which sold and distributed candy.
Most notable, however, was the Communist-based The Workers School Forum, which leased space on the second floor by 1932.
A tenant with a similar political bent, the newspaper L’Unita Oberaia, set up its operation here in 1935. The two-year old publication was run, according to The Daily Worker on February 7, by “revolutionary Italian workers.” The article explained…
this Italian language newspaper has conducted the most relentless struggle against the penetration of Italian fascist propaganda and against the persecution of Italian workers in this country by the agents of Mussolini. It has been the best guide of the Italian workers in all their daily struggles against the attacks of capitalism upon their standard of living and against the deportation weapon of the bosses.
The newspaper did not go unnoticed by the Federal Government. The Massachusetts House Committee on Un-American Activities report of 1938 described it as “An Italian monthly which the Communist Party admits is under Communist influence.”
Other tenants were decidedly less political, like the Clyde Furniture Co., here at the same time. After mid-century the Acme Bulletin & Directory Board Corp. leased space in the building.
But the last quarter of the century saw significant change in the district, and around 1975 the Kenshire Galleries moved in. In its December 7, 1987 issue, New York Magazine mentioned that “Nineteenth-century Italian gilt armchairs, $6,000 a pair, and an antique French Aubusson fire screen, $2,200,” were available here. The upscale store remained until around 2015.
In February 2015, The New York Times journalist Vivlian Marino reported on Edward J. Minskoff’s upcoming conversion of 37 East 12th Street to residential space. The president and founder of Edward J. Minskoff Equities, he announced that there would be just six units, pointing out “the room sizes are big and the ceiling heights range from 13 to 16 feet.”
The renovation, which was completed in 2016, resulted in one apartment per floor from the second through sixth, and a four-bedroom duplex on the top two floors. A three-bedroom, two-story maisonette (called The Townhouse by realtors) has a private entrance on the ground floor.
Albert Wagner’s striking facade remains unchanged and is worth a pause to adequately appreciate.
photographs by the author
Our lighthouse is at the Bronx Botanical Garden annual holiday display, Photo by Vicki Feinmel
Rose window at Chapel of the Good Shepherd Laura Hussey & Ed Litcher got it right!
Text by Judith Berdy Thanks to Bobbie Slonevsky for her dedication to Blackwell’s Almanac and the RIHS Thanks to Deborah Dorff for maintaining our website Edited by Melanie Colter and Deborah Dorff
All image are copyrighted (c) Roosevelt Island Historical Society unless otherwise indicated:
DAYTONIAN IN MANHATTAN
RIHS (C) FUNDING PROVIDED BY ROOSEVELT ISLAND OPERATING CORPORATION PUBLIC PURPOSE GRANTS CITY COUNCIL REPRESENTATIVE BEN KALLOS DISCRETIONARY FUNDING THRU DYCD
